


his boner is a foot-long concrete dildo

by caixa



Series: Bad Porn M&M's [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Come Eating, Daddy Kink, Drug Use, Infidelity, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Watersports, basically a pwp piece, on the last activity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 16:59:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14265555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caixa/pseuds/caixa
Summary: “Please, daddy. I need it.”Matt digs into his pocket and fishes a small pill out of a mini zip lock bag. “Okay,” he says, and Mitch opens his mouth.





	his boner is a foot-long concrete dildo

**Author's Note:**

> None of this is my fault. My muse spoke to me and I had to follow her.

 

“Please, daddy. I need it.”

Matt digs into his pocket and fishes a small pill out of a mini zip lock bag. “Okay,” he says, and Mitch opens his mouth.

Matt pushes the E deep in, pressing it down for a moment. The finger is salty on Mitch’s tongue and the powdery consistency of the hard mini puck resembles one of those heart-shaped candies.

“Tell me when it hits, kid, huh?”

 

They get out of the bathroom, like there’s a need to do this behind locked doors, around the corner to kitchen would work as fine. The girls sit in the den, long legs perfectly aligned, perfect little asses in 300 dollar yoga pants, obliviously chattering away. About purses, watches, landscapists? Mitch can’t really follow, the conversation is going on already, like hell he can concentrate enough to get into it in the middle.

They  laugh, the giggles are matching, bubbling out from between perfect white teeth, matching like the long blond hair, and for a moment Mitch thinks of grabbing a fistful of strands, opening his pants, just pushing his cock into the nearest mouth, no matter whose.

It’s kicking in.

He bites his bottom lip, kicks Matt’s foot with his toes, darts as sharp a look at him as he masters.

Thank God, Matt gives him a glance, raises his eyebrows to a question, Mitch nods furiously.

Girls are engaged in their oblivious chatter, Mitch still hasn’t got a hang of what it’s about but he hopes it’s wedding gowns, that will keep them occupied.

Matt clears his throat. “We’ll go take the dog out,” he says.

 

Matt takes the dog literally out, nowhere further. As soon as they’re in his back garden he lets it loose, the fence will keep it out of the street.

Mitch couldn’t take it longer. His boner is a foot-long concrete dildo, his whole groin tingles, hot chills run up and down his spine.

Up, to the neck, hair standing upright, like from static electricity, wanting, waiting.

Down, all the way where he feels his pulse in his ass.

Nobody can feel their pulse there. His body is lying to him. The pill wakes it up, gives it a mind of its own, makes it throb and ache and _want_ , a gaping fuck-me-hole.

 

Matt glances around himself like a thief before opening the pool house door. He waits, his hand on the handle, not giving much way for Mitch to enter. Mitch squeezes in brushing Matt’s body and the concrete dildo boner in his jeans screams from the touch.

The door clicks locked behind them. Matt cracks open bottles of water and Gatorade, takes a long gulp of the water and hands the Gatorade bottle to Mitch. Mitch sips it gratefully, his mouth does feel dry.

“These are quick little fuckers this time,” Matt says, sliding the short zip lock of the plastic bag open. “I don’t want my boy down too fast.” He takes one out, breaks it in half, chugs the other half in his mouth like an M&M and holds the other half on the tip of his extended index finger.

Mitch cups his hands around the fist and takes the whole length of the finger in his mouth. The jagged edge of the pill scrapes the back of his palate. He licks it in with an acrobatic tongue move and lets the finger out with a slow suck. Matt smiles at him.

“Good call, kid. Let’s get you more to suck on.” He presses Mitch’s shoulder down with one hand, unbuttons his jeans with the other.

Mitch kneels and takes Matt’s half-hard cock in his hand. He starts with just worrying the head with his lips, giving it small licks with the tip of his tongue, and Matt’s breath deepens, he mutters something about Mitch being a tease.

The cock grows bigger and harder. Mitch has his hand wrapped around the root of the shaft, studies closely how the color of the tip deepens, how come he never pays attention to the little wonders of nature like that? He gives it another little lick, and Matt bucks forward with a small, impatient move, so Mitch wets the cock with a bolder lick and lets it slide in his mouth, he likes it like this, hard and huge, giving his big mouth lots to work on.

Sucking Matt’s cock doesn’t help his own hard-on, almost painfully caged in his jeans. He fumbles with his fly with one hand, manages to open the waist button and zipper, scrunches the front of his underpants down to coax his cock out.

He puts his hand on himself, looks up at Matt for approval and gets it. “Oh yeah, go play with it, boy,” Matt says, looking down on him, and Mitch hums gratefully around Matt’s cock and gives slow rubs to his own. He doesn’t want to overdo it, he wants to last, but gosh, he needs something.

Mitch keeps his eyes on Matt who fucks his mouth. Matt tilts his head to the side to look past Mitch’s head at his cock, switches between watching Mitch touching himself and his own cock entering between Mitch’s lips. Mitch’s sight gets blurred, all more the deeper Matt pushes. Thrusts that hit the back of his throat force tears in his eyes but he doesn’t mind, it’s so dirty hot he only wants to jerk himself harder.

 

Matt pulls back. “Wait, babe,” he says, and turns to the side to raid the pocket of a bathrobe hanging on a hook on the wall. He takes off his white T-shirt and looks so hot, abs out, cock out of the jeans, waistband halfway the curve of his ass. Mitch watches him, sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, back and forth, hand on is cock in slow, loose movement.

“Take your pants off and stay on your knees, Mitchy,” Matt says. Mitch does as told, sitting on the floor to undress the skinny legs of his jeans properly, gets back up on his knees on the plush rug, thighs spread for air and balance.

“Good job,” Matt says, stepping back in front of him. “Gimme your hand.”

Mitch does, Matt squeezes cool lube on his palm, Mitch rubs his hands together to spread it on both. Matt twists his torso to place the tube on a dresser, shifts closer and cups the back of Mitch’s head, holding his cock in front of his face, brushes Mitch’s bottom lip lightly with the purple tip.

“Don’t suck it too hard, I’m gonna fuck you in a minute. Play with yourself some more,” Matt speaks in a groggy voice, cock in one hand, the other moving to Mitch’s cheek, thumb rubbing his lips hard. “Make it look good. Finger your ass. Get your little slut-hole ready for me.”

“I will, daddy,” Mitch breathes out and opens his mouth for Matt’s cock again. Matt’s hand slides from his cheek into the crown of his hair, fingers dig in and clench into a fist. The pull is uneven and Mitch swears he can feel it on his scalp separate for each hair, the tighter, the gentler, and it speaks a language his cock understands directly.

It’s hard not to respond by sucking Matt’s cock really tight. Luckily Mitch has an alternative: he can respond by giving Matt the show he asked for. He arches his back for a better access and a better view to his ass, slides his hand down his shirt, over the bare round buttock, to the hole.

He massages the rim with a lubed fingertip, teases himself with a little circling shake-around. He squeezes his cock in his other fist, moans around Matt’s cock and presses his chest to his thighs, his body _wants_ so much, he needs to rub his nipples against Matt through the layers of T-shirt and jeans.

“Fuck, you tease. Push it in,” Matt murmurs, “I want your ass open good.” Mitch obeys him, shoves a finger inside, edges the tip of another next to it, pushes deeper, the muscle ring gives way. Both fingers are in to the knuckle, he fucks his ass with them, in and out, revels in the wet squelching.

He carefully scissors the two fingers apart, palm up, inches the tip of his thumb between them. _Fuck yeah, that’s good_ , he hears from above and loves it. He salivates around Matt’s cock, the spit welling in the corners of his mouth, starting to run down both sides of his chin.

Matt pulls Mitch’s head off his cock by his hair, Mitch pants and licks his lips, looking up to his eyes. He sits on his knees and slowly pulls his fingers out of his ass.

“Good,” Matt breathes and smiles at him, “Turn and get on your hands and knees.”

Mitch does and looks over his shoulder: Matt adds lube on himself. Each sound and move of it is sensual, the click of the flip-top cap, the little snort the tube makes when bubbles of air splurt out along with the gel, the slick little squelches when Matt applies it on his cock. He drops his jeans down some more and gets on his knees behind Mitch, between his legs, the denim brushes the inside of Mitch’s bare shin, even that feels so dirty hot, a quick fuck half dressed.

Matt slaps and spreads his ass, kneads one buttock to the side, guides his cock to the place with his other hand, humming pleased. “What an ass. Feels fucking good, Mitchy boy,” he says as he eases the tip in. He pushes slowly to the widest point of his cockhead, pauses and slaps Mitch again. Mitch keeps looking over his shoulder, he can see the root of Matt’s cock and the curves of his own ass but not where he enters, oh fuck how he’d love to, but he can get the vision in his head from the feel of it and it’s phenomenal.

“Yeah, baby, keep looking at me like that, you look like a pornstar, you sure love cock don’t you?” Matt talks, spewing words out of his mouth between short breaths, edging his cock further in until it slips there comfortably and slams home in one thrust, causing Mitch to jerk forward on his knees.

Mitch moans loudly and roots his hands firmly to the rug to take in Matt’s pounding against him. He pushes his ass back and apart, he _needs_ it _deep_ , he wants Matt’s pelvis to spank his asshole.

“Split me, daddy, fuck… keep… me open,” he whines incoherently but Matt is a fucking genius, he literally is a _fucking_ genius. He gets what Mitch wants, sinks his fingers in his asscheeks, spreads them sternly apart, stretches him and it hurts so _good_ , there’s a pleasantly aching hit where Matt’s pubis hits his tailbone; he’s going to bruise, and if he does, it’s good, he wants to remember how he feels right now, at this moment, the hands, the cock, the thighs and legs, the rug under his knees.

Matt moves his other hand from Mitch’s buttock to his back, slides it under his shirt, pushing his shoulders down. The shirt bunches near Mitch’s shoulder blades.

Mitch arches his back and lowers his chest to the floor to flaunt his ass higher, to give Matt the angle he’s seeking. The hand moves under his shirt, slides around his waist to the front, under his belly, finds his cock, and all the while Matt is fucking into him on a steady pace.

Mitch’s cock feels warm. He realizes he’s leaking on Matt’s hand and the precum mixes with the lube he got on himself earlier. It feels so slippery and warm and tight, the hand, he wants to fuck it but he doesn’t want to move because his ass is getting smashed so soundly. He needs to keep getting it, Matt’s hefty daddy cock is giving it to him so good.

Nobody else gives it to him so good.

Matt’s hand leaves his cock and is on his ass again, holding it spread and in place with a steely grip. Matt thrusts a bit down now, and fuck if the head of his cock doesn’t hit Mitch’s prostate: he gets these amazing scorching waves inside he never wants to end. Matt fucks with speed, fast and hard, short fingernails sinking in Mitch’s flesh, letting out short, aggressive, breathy moans to the beat that his cock drums into Mitch. _Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Ff-fuck, fuck,  oh, oh._

Mitch feels his climax building up and puts his hand haphazardly under his cock. He’s not a good guest if he comes all over the rug.

It spills on his fingers, on the cup of his palm, some on the hem of his shirt, surely some on the floor too.

When he comes around Matt’s hands rest heavy and relaxed on his ass and the weight of Matt’s body leans to him, the meaty cock anchored inside him. Mitch feels his pulse around it again, a bit of soreness seeping in where the thin skin has been stretched.

 

Matt pulls out and sits on his knees on the floor, jeans bunched above his knees. Mitch turns to sit sideways, leans to his hand, keeps the cum-stained hand upright. The white seed is pooled on the palm and dries on the fingers where it has landed in smaller blotches.

Matt leans in to give him a deep kiss, tongue sweeping on his, on the inside of his cheeks, the wall of his teeth. “Lick it,” he says as he pulls back. When Mitch doesn’t get it right away, Matt grabs his wrist and gives it a lick across the palm. “Like that,” he says, “clean it up.”

Mitch brings the hand to his face and laps cum in long licks, starting from the spot still wet from Matt’s tongue, keeping his eyes in Matt’s. Matt bites and licks his bottom lip watching it. “That’s hot. You’re so good, my kinky little party boy.” Mitch goes on sucking his fingers in his mouth one by one and finally licks his knuckles and wrist like a cat.

Matt grins. He stands up, pulling his pants up enough to keep them on, fly still open, cock out, a towering presence over Mitch who’s still on the floor.

“Great. Now, take off your shirt. Let’s hit the shower,” Matt says.

Mitch undresses and gets up from the floor, floundering a bit because his head feels light. There’s something off with his sense of balance after being down on the floor for so long. He goes past Matt and walks ahead; he knows the way to the pool house bathroom and steps into the shower stall in the corner. When he turns around he notices Matt still has his jeans on.

“Just sit on the floor. I’ll take care of you.”

Mitch gets down on the cool floor, his head does feel better there. Seeing Matt between the sliding glass doors of the shower stall, tall and muscled and half-naked, cock in his hand, wakes up traces of lust in him again. His eyes are stuck on the cock, he remembers its weight and girth and hardness in his mouth, inside his ass.

“Daddy needs to pee. You ready?” Matt asks. Mitch’s body reacts before he has really wrapped his head around the question and decided between _What, now?_ and _Okay, I guess_ , when he realizes he nods in approval.

Urine hits him mostly on chest and shoulder, some sprays on his hair and face but he closes his eyes. It’s warm where it wets his skin and he decides it smells of Matt.

Matt bows down, cups his head and pecks his cheek, the corner of his lip, the bridge of his nose. “You’re so cute to daddy, Mitchy,” he says, steps backwards out of the shower and buttons his jeans. “You’d better shower now. You don’t want to get back inside hair smelling of piss.”

 

Mitch uses one of the fresh towels he finds in the bathroom closet. When he comes out of the bathroom, Matt is rummaging through the dresser.

“Here,” he says and tosses Mitch a T-shirt, same kind of white he’s already dressed in himself. “I knew I had a clean one here somewhere.”

Mitch pulls on the shirt and finds his underwear and jeans to put on. He feels disoriented and restless, light in the head, pulse pounding in weird places, groin and temples. Matt narrows his eyes, giving him a considerate look.

“Antsy? Headache coming on?” he asks.

“A bit,” Mitch admits.

Matt bows in front of the dresser again and pulls one of the small top drawers completely out. He peeks into the slot and pulls out a plastic medicine bottle.

“These will help you wind down,” he says, opening the cap. “We’ll take a power nap and you’re good as new.”

Mitch takes the pill Matt shakes on the palm of his hand and swallows it with rest of the opened Gatorade.

“Better,” he smiles.

Matt ruffles his hair. “That’s my boy,” he says.

 

Matt whistles at the dog and lets it in first. Mitch’s eyelids are getting heavy, his limbs are getting relaxed, the earlier restlessness fading away.

Matt’s back blankets him against the back of the couch, warm and firm and heavy, and Mitch throws his arm over his waist for a comfortable sleepy cuddle.

He hears giggles and a synthetic shutter sound of a phone camera. There’s a melodic _You’re not gonna post it, are you?_ and _Of course I am, look how cute_ , and Mitch might have an opinion, but at the moment he is way too warm, comfortable and dazed to give a shit.

 

*

* FIN *

*

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'd be delighted to hear from you! Either in the comments or on my tumblr, caixxa (main) or badhockeymom.
> 
> Thank you for reading,  
> Love,
> 
> caixa


End file.
